


Keep On Looking For Something I Can't Get

by celestialshimmer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Coda to 2.3 (Reapercussions), Gen, Grief, Platonic Love, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialshimmer/pseuds/celestialshimmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"No one has a brother."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>              <em>I used to.</em></p><p> <br/>Clarke's thoughts - and regrets - on her friendship with Wells.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep On Looking For Something I Can't Get

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, written right after 2.3.
> 
> Title comes from the song "(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight", originally by Cutting Crew, but specifically inspired by the Bastille cover.

_"No one has a brother."_  

When some boy said this to Octavia Blake, a random and unwanted thought popped into Clarke's head. _I used to_. 

She had a hundred things weighing heavily on her brain in the next few minutes, not least of which including the two boys who'd died in the landing, or the worry of how many of them may die soon from radiation, or how many of them _will_  die soon if they can't get to Mount Weather for food immediately.

But on top of that, she had Wells.

She did not need this. She did not need to think about how Wells had been to her what she always imagined a brother would be like. Anger twisted inside her, because she hated remembering their former closeness. They'd been close enough that she _trusted_  him - with her father's life, with her freedom, with everything - and he had totally betrayed her. 

She wouldn't think about the pain and grief that was accompanying the anger; not just for the loss of her father, but for the loss of their friendship. Wells - god, she'd thought of him like a _brother_. Of course it hurt that he was gone - because even though he was still here, he was effectively dead to her. Their relationship was dead. She hated him, and wouldn't stop hating him.

And wouldn't stop hating the fact that he'd ruined their friendship.

(Had there been anything to ruin in the first place? Had he ever given a damn about her, if he would do something like that?

Maybe she shouldn't think that she used to have a brother - like everyone else in existence except for Octavia Blake, she never had one at all.)

 

~~~

 

Clarke was so wrong.

So, so, so goddamn wrong.

He'd done everything for her. He'd let her hate him. He encouraged it, so that Clarke would direct all her vitriol at him instead of _her_.

And she'd barely had the chance to exult in the fact that _yes, I have a brother again - I did all along - he loved me- he'd loved me so much even when I told him to his face that I hated him - and that made his love all the more unbelievable and precious - I had a brother again_

When it was stripped away.

When it was all over, Charlotte dead and Murphy banished and Finn gone for a little while, she was alone and left to her own thoughts and misery.

Wells was _dead._

She'd only just gotten him back again, when he was murdered.

She'd wasted what little time they did have, wasted it on hating him.

And now she hated herself even more. Hated herself for believing he would do something like that to her, and for hurting him so much.

(She tried not to think about how it was her mother who in fact did do that to her.)

And god, he'd _forgiven_ her. Without so much as a half-second of hesitation, he'd forgiven her and loved her and hugged her - for the first time since her year of solitary, but for the last too.

She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

(She hated herself for that little insidious part of her that whispered _maybe it'd be better if I hadn't learned_. _Wells had been dead to you, remember? Wouldn't it be easier to handle his death if you didn't care?_

Clarke knew that it would be. She knew because now with all the wristbands dead, she didn't even care if her mother never made it to the safety of the ground. Maybe that would change later, but maybe not.

If Wells had died while she still hated him, she might not even have cried.

And that made her cry - the thought that Wells could have died carrying his secret - her mother's secret - to the grave. That she could have never known. That he could have died knowing she hated him even though he'd told her that's what he feared most. That her best friend, her brother, could have died and she wouldn't have shed a tear.)

She wept. Nothing was helping, she was so alone now (Finn didn't count) (this was so much worse than when she had just hated him) (she wondered if she had only never hated him, if she'd known he couldn't have ever betrayed her like that, he wouldn't have gotten himself arrested to follow her to the ground to help her and to ask for forgiveness for something he hadn't even done but wouldn't deny because he loved her because he wanted her to love her mother because he'd rather have her hate him than hate her even at such a high cost even at the cost of imprisonment and possible death by radiation and then-

She tried to claw that idea out of her mind, but it came again and again: _what_ _if  it's my fault that Wells is dead?)_

 

~~~

 

Clarke tried to claw another idea out of her mind too, after seeing Monty alive in Mount Weather.

She'd been so sure Monty was dead after everything that happened, that Grounders had gotten him.

When seeing him alive, the hope seized her that Wells was too.

Of course, he wasn't. She'd seen his body, it wasn't possible. But what if? If he'd been there to help her, to trust her (to help her yet again, to trust her more than she'd trusted him) when she had her suspicions about what was really going in there. If he'd helped her discover the Grounders being killed for Mount Weather's medical practices, to help her escape, to find everyone else who was probably dead but -

 _God_.

When the impossible hope hit her that maybe, just maybe, he would come back to her (again), it wouldn't let go.

Anything - she'd accept anything. She'd accept that he'd somehow still been alive when they buried him. She'd accept that the Mount Weather people had somehow rescued him - even if they fooled him like they did to Jasper, at least he'd be alive and happy. Or that the Grounders had rescued him, even - and wouldn't that be ironic, if he'd survived Charlotte's attack to be captured by those who the camp originally thought had killed him - like they'd captured Murphy (and god, this thought made her feel callous and horrible, but even if they'd tortured Wells, he'd still be alive at least.

how horrible was that to think - that after Wells had put himself through so much pain and separation from her to keep her happy, that she'd _wish_ that he'd been tortured just so she could see him again?)

 

~~~

 

_No one has a brother._

_I used to._

Clarke used to have a brother.

Did he stop being her brother when he was dead?

He hadn't stopped when she had turned her back on him and treated him only with vitriol and hatred.

Could even death stop him?

She didn't know.

She loved him. She couldn’t say she'd loved him the same way, no, because she'd been so fickle when he'd been so faithful. But when she learned the truth, she loved him again, and he'd forgiven her.

She had considered him dead to her, and he kept loving. He was actually dead now, and what now?

_I still love him, could I still say he loves me?_

_Do I still have a brother?_

_I don't know._

 

~~~

 

Clarke used to have a brother.

What she wouldn't give to get him back.


End file.
